Everlasting light
by Sherlock HolmesXIrene Adler
Summary: Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler think they destroyed the last of Moriarty's crime web months ago, but all is not what it seems. I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters.
1. Psychotic girl

**Psychotic girl**

It was a warm summer's night in London. The sky mixed with thin clouds and the rosy redness that seemed to float above the skyline of the great city. 'Red sky at night, Shepard's delight.' Irene mumbled to herself. She closely watched the busy street below slow down to the seemingly calm tempo of the pleasantly mild night, between her fingers she held the edge of the thin lace curtains; running her red polished nails delicately along the pattern of the material.

In the distance a taxi appeared and came to a halt directly in front of 221B Baker Street. A mischievous smirk grew on her face, she closed the lace curtains; returning to her temporary hiding place.

Irene quickly yet gracefully exited the main living area of the flat, retreating to the consulting detective's bedroom. She wore only his dark purple shirt, matching underwear and her hair in the statement up do with her makeup identical to the first time they met. She lay on his bed; facing the door whilst resting her arm on the pillow.

Soon enough voices could be heard ascending the stairs, two of them she recognised as Sherlock Holmes and John Watson but she was not able to identify who the third man was, a trusted friend or colleague she assumed by their casual conversation and presence in the flat.

'We haven't seen or heard anything since then.' Said Lestrade. 'So you're expecting another crime linked to these.' Said John, Irene listened intently while she waited patiently to be discovered.

'Yes, sadly our hands are tied until we have more clues. Whoever this man is he is clearly very careful to leave little evidence.'

Sherlock had been extremely quiet since he entered the flat, she wondered if he had found her bait.

Sherlock sat in his armchair; focusing, immersed in the few clues the criminal had left him. At first the case he had been assigned had seemed completely simple initially, leaving Sherlock convinced that it would just be another boring, time wasting case, yet there was more to it than what it seemed.

A incredibly expensive diamond had been stolen, worth more than £7 million. It had been somewhat entirely secure in the Victoria and Albert museum of London. Their entrance to the museum was completely obvious to Sherlock (unlike the idiots at Scotland Yard) the air vent on the outside of the building had clearly been tampered with; even if it was carefully replaced the signs of a hasty removal were still noticeable. However the air vent in the room of the diamond was not, only the smashed glass on the floor and the missing diamond were the other clues, the escape was the same route as the entrance.

Something peculiar to his home disturbed Sherlock's thoughts, a single hair pin lay on the floor, his eyebrows knitted together in thought and concern. John noticed 'Sherlock is everything ok?' He did not reply, instead he rose from his seat and began to follow a very familiar scent, was that perfume? 'Sherlock?' John continued sounding more worried.

Sherlock continued along the hallway until he reached his room, the smell of flowers at its strongest he slowly opened the door.

There he found Irene Adler laying on his bed wearing his clothes in what appeared an attempt to invade his personal space.

His solid gaze remained on her whilst she spoke in a confident tone; too low to be heard by John and Lestrade, 'Hello Mr. Holmes. Miss me?' She smiled and stood up from the bed; encircling his neck with her arms in an romantic manner. 'John. It seems we have a guest.' Sherlock said never letting his eyes leave hers.

John walked to the entrance of Sherlock's room 'What are you talk-' He stopped talking when he spotted Sherlock and Irene in what appeared to be an embrace. 'Dr. Watson.' She acknowledged only turning her head to see the priceless look of shock upon his face.

'Irene? But you- your dead.' John said with complete confusion. 'Well obviously not.' Sherlock replied patronisingly gesturing at Irene and how she was clearly alive.

'How?', 'Someone turned up at the last minute and saved me.' She said whilst turning her head slightly sideways and looking into Sherlock's eyes adoringly. 'You?!' Lestrade said out of the blue, whereas he had been previously silent in disbelief.

'Miss Adler, I have no time for your childish games, I have a case to solve.' He said removing her arms from around his neck and returning to the living area. Irene followed ignoring John and Lestrade just as he did, 'Well if you haven't already deduced I'm here to help you with that.' Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

'How would you know about that case, it's not public yet.' Said Lestrade. 'Calm down I'm not the British media.' She said condescendingly. Sherlock smirked with amusement at her remark as she sat on the arm of his chair beside him.

With impeccable timing the landlady Mrs. Hudson entered through the kitchen, 'I heard you boys come in so I made you some tea.' She appeared in the room holding a tray with three cups of tea and wore a look of awe and happiness on her face when she saw Irene perched next to Sherlock. 'Oh, hello dear I didn't know you were here, I'm Mrs. Hudson.' She smiled at Irene. 'Nice to meet you, I'm Irene Adler.' She shook the elderly woman's hand.

Throughout the next couple of minutes the tea was drunk and the conversation consisted of the normal everyday subjects, Irene made an effort to join in; when on the contrary Sherlock stayed silent and totally emotionless, Irene caught him watching her a couple of times but did not comment.

'Well I better get going, I've got a date.' John said positively. 'Me too actually, better get back to the station, I'll keep you posted on the case.' After they left; Mrs. Hudson said 'I'll leave you two alone then.' Then added, 'Nice to meet your girlfriend Sherlock.'

'She's not my girlfriend!' Sherlock spoke with annoyance. Irene chuckled slipping herself into his lap and kissing him playfully on the cheek. Sherlock let out a sigh of irritation, 'So what did you need to tell me about this case?' Irene became more serious now and looked down into her hands. 'I know the criminal.' She said sounding worried, returning her gaze to his face. 'Who?'

She took a breath; speaking as she exhaled. 'Sebastian Moran. Moriarty's apprentice.' She then continued, 'When I was involved with Jim, I never met Sebastian; it was just whispers.' Sherlock listened intently, 'The crimes were not the only reason I came here, I think, he wants to kill you; just as his teacher did, and if he finds I'm alive, I fear he'll kill me too.'

'Thank you, I will not let them kill either of us.' The atmosphere had suddenly became too sentimental for his liking. 'If you don't mind Irene I would like to have a shower.' He gestured for her to remove herself from his lap. Whilst she moved she said 'Don't mind if I join do you?' She smirked slyly.

He ignored her and hastily retreated to his en suite shutting his bedroom door firmly behind him; just to make sure.

It was a few months after Sherlock's hiatus, he had spent that time with Irene, together they disassembled Moriarty's crime web and had defeated what they thought was the last organisation involved in early spring. It was now July and Irene suspected that Sebastian's power would have grown significantly during the time, making it far more noticeable than previously.

Once or if they were successful in ending the last of the crime web, there would most definatly be no more trouble from the recently deceased Jim Moriarty.

Irene would not admit it to herself but until Sebastian Moran was dead she was dependent on Sherlock in a way, she needed his protection, she needed him.

Once Sherlock had finished his shower Irene then had hers. When she returned Irene was surprised to find him laying in his bed; with space left for her, he was on his phone. 'They've found a witness we'll go to Scotland Yard in the morning.' He set the alarm for 6:30 and waited until Irene was laying in bed next to him to turn off the bedside lamp.

This reminded Irene of their days defeating the crime web, the days when they had no choice whether they slept in the same bed or not because it would appear suspicious. But something was different, she just couldn't quite put her finger on it.

'Goodnight Mr. Sherlock Holmes.'

'Goodnight Miss Irene Adler.'

'Sweet dreams.' She whispered.

They both drifted off into a deep sleep.

Sherlock was dreaming. He appeared in a large building with an immensely high ceiling, he looked around the church, he was surrounded by his friends and his small family (Mycroft and their mother) who were all seated in front of him. He turned to look beside him, standing there was John wearing a beaming smile on his face, 'ready?' He said quietly.

Loud music of an orchestra began to fill the church, was that the bridal chorus?! Then as clear as day a figure appeared before him, Irene. She wore a beautiful white wedding dress and an even more stunningly beautiful smile on her face.

Sherlock awoke with a start, he looked at the clock; it was two in the morning. 'Sherlock, are you ok' Irene said sleepily and calmly. He looked down at her, he was holding her tightly around the waist from behind. 'Mhm.' He replied much too quickly. 'You were talking in your sleep.' He did not reply. 'You said 'I do'.'

His eyes widened with shock and without thinking of what she would assume he abruptly removed his arms from around her and turned round to face his back to her. Irene felt his heat leave her body, but she was satisfied. She knew he was dreaming about her.


	2. Stop stop

**Stop stop**

The alarm went off all of a sudden, Sherlock and Irene arose from their sleep. The strong sunshine seeped through the curtains flowing into the room like a waterfall. Irene let out a soft groan from her throat and leaned over Sherlock to turn off the alarm. 'Good morning.' She smiled at him; almost peacefully; as she got out of bed then retrieved clothing from her suitcase.

Sherlock stared at her for a few moments, thinking how stunning she looked in the morning light, storing this memory of her in his mind palace along with the other numerous accounts he had made unforgettable. He immediately dismissed the sentimental thought (what on earth had gotten into him!?); taking his own clothes from his wardrobe and walking into the bathroom with a stern emotionless look on his face.

She smiled absentmindedly while she dressed; recalling last night's events. She was almost certain she was safe now, only Sebastian Moran remained; meaning their mutual enemy could be destroyed once and for all, finally leaving them be.

Sherlock reappeared from the bathroom wearing a dark blue shirt and trousers. Irene's attire consisted of a white, sleeveless, knee length dress with navy high heels. Her dark hair was down and she wore her statement red lipstick.

Once they entered the living area they found John reading a newspaper and eating breakfast in the kitchen. 'Morning.' John said with a mouthful of toast. 'Good morning, how did the date go?' She asked him. It was unusual for John to be asked these questions, Sherlock did't care at all about his girlfriends or love life, 'Very well thanks, um , listen; just to clarify, are you two together?' Irene chuckled, 'No!' Sherlock stated seriously. 'ok.' John said awkwardly, a laugh died at the back of his throat, he was finding Sherlock's slight embarrassment and childish reaction rather entertaining as did Irene.

Irene put the kettle on and went to sit opposite John on the breakfast table. Sherlock sat on the sofa across the other side of the room on his laptop, abolishing the world around him as he researched this 'Sebastian Moran' man. However hardly any further information had been discovered, if it wasn't for Irene he would have assumed the man never existed.

About half an hour later; the consulting detective, the doctor and the woman exited 221B Baker Street and made their way to New Scotland Yard. The three of them sat silently together in the taxi, watching the rush of London go by; the dull colours of the buildings merging with the pristine bright blue of the summer sky. Irene's nails tapped on the plastic car door; as she was in what seemed to be deep thought.

As soon as the taxi came to a stop she abandoned her trance sweeping out from the vehicle immediately while she left Sherlock and John to pay the driver. She walked slowly up to the doorway almost a stroll as she waited for them to catch up.

Within moments Sherlock was by her side at a considerably faster pace than her, she struggled to keep up in her high heels but it did not show. 'So this witness, know anything about them?' She said, 'Lewis Fisher. He was a worker at the museum, said he was held at gunpoint and forced to turn off the alarm system, it's dangerous for him to be here.'

'I agree. Judging by his previous actions he is ruthless enough to kill for his safety, and I hardly expect the police to protect him that well.' Together they entered the glass doors of the building, the bright sun reflecting from them as John followed behind.

Eventually after travelling through a series of corridors the group were greeted by a certain Sally Donovan who wore an expression of disgust as she spotted Sherlock. 'Freak is here.' The frizzy haired woman shouted to some unknown party in the collection of offices behind her.

'Who is she?' Sally asked in an irritating tone. Before Irene could introduce herself Sherlock quickly said 'She's with me.' As he pushed past her with his shoulder; walking rather arrogantly. Irene smirked and took his hand; thinking to herself 'well this will make them talk.' Sherlock's reaction however was not so positive, why on earth had she taken his hand? Her sentiment was showing.

Instead of saying anything Sherlock gave her a slightly confused glare, but he did not remove his hand from hers nor did he struggle from her grip, any attempt to escape would just make her more determined, that was just the type of woman she was.

In return Irene moved even closer to him; leaning her head against his shoulder. John however watched them completely perplexed, wasn't it just this morning that Sherlock had insisted that him and the woman were most defiantly not in a relationship?

Once they reached Lestrade's office Irene removed her head and hand from the annoyed Sherlock. The room was simple yet it had some personal touches such as the pictures of his children, the view looked over the opposite skyscraper; a dull and boring office, monotonous to the several others.

'Hello again Irene.' Lestrade smiled before greeting (more so acknowledging) the two other men, she was enjoying the attention, maybe it was time to make Sherlock a bit green-eyed, she smirked astutely. 'Hello Greg, lovely to see you again.' She said as they walked towards his desk, swinging her hips flirtatiously reflecting the tone of her voice.

'The witness.' Sherlock said not as a question but more as a demand, he didn't know why he was becoming so bothered. 'Yes, yes you'll meet him later. So what brings you here.' Greg said looking admirably at Irene who gave him a beaming smile. 'Well detective stories do quite interest me, so I thought I'd tag along.' She said nonchalantly whilst perching on his desk. 'Oh, you like detective stories?' Lestrade said as Sherlock and John watched the pair's conversation with raised eyebrows.

'Yes, and detectives.' Irene replied then enjoyed the enduring silence. Sherlock recognised the phrase immediately, she had said in their first encounter, it hurt a little to see her saying it to someone else, he was left feeling rather vulnerable, but why should he?

The awkward silence was intruded by the despised forensic scientist, Anderson. 'The witness is ready for you to see-' He entered looking at a pile of paperwork he held and cut off his sentence as he saw Irene.

She almost wanted to laugh out loud at his expression; which resembled that of a shocked cartoon character. 'Hello.' Irene spoke seductively breaking yet another silence she had caused. 'Um, hi.' Anderson said looking ridiculously embarrassed and excited.

'Shut up Anderson; you're gawping like an idiot.' Sherlock said with a hint of anger in his voice whilst exiting the room. Irene winked playfully at the blushing man as she followed.

'Well that was unnecessary.' Sherlock said to her. 'And why on earth would it bother you dear?' She smiled, pleased she had gotten a reaction out of the 'heartless' detective. 'It doesn't.' He mumbled trying to convince himself just that, he knew it was a lie. Behind them John was silently chuckling both of them were being preposterously childish.

They reached the room the witness inhabited, he was a thin, blonde man in his late twenties with sharp facial features and a worried look in his eyes, no wonder; the poor man was risking his life coming to the police.

'Morning Lewis.' John said calmly. They introduced themselves and sat opposite Mr. Fisher, the man had already been interviewed but the consulting detective preferred to find his own information.

'We need you to tell us about the man who threatened you.' Sherlock said forwardly, maybe a little to forcefully. 'Y-yes, well there was two of them.' They waited for him to continue. 'The first one, the one who spoke, he was blonde; I didn't see his eyes he was wearing sunglasses. He had an English accent, but not a posh one.'

'What about the second man?' Irene asked. He looked to her, still with fear in his eyes, he swallowed. 'The other man had dark hair, but ther-re was something strange, he kept on itching his arm, like it was a mosquito bite, but I-I thought it was strange because he was itching it too often for it to be from a bug... I think.' The man looked at Sherlock, almost for approval of his help.

Sherlock instantaneously left his seat leaving the room, it was all the information he wanted. Irene and John followed, 'Thank you for your time.' John said reassuringly before leaving.

Lestrade caught them on the way out. 'Find anything new?' He asked. 'One of them had a bite.' Greg sighed disappointedly, 'Is that it?!' Sherlock glared at him, ' I have my theories.'

As he turned around he found Anderson hopelessly flirting with Irene, he had had enough of this. 'So would you like to go out sometime?' Said Anderson. 'Like on a date?' She said innocently. 'Yeah.' He replied smiling like an idiot.

To everyone's surprise Sherlock came from behind Irene snaking his arm around her waist and pulled her tightly against him. 'Her answer is no.' He said sternly removing her from Anderson. God she loved it when he was possessive.

She looked up at him shocked, yet cool and collected, 'Your sentiment is showing.' She whispered in his ear then gave him a peck of a kiss on his jaw and once again rested her head delicately on his shoulder as she enjoyed the feeling of his arm around her waist.

The entire of Scotland Yard watched in awe and astonishment as the couple walked down the corridor. 'Is she his girlfriend?' Sally asked Anderson, 'Well apparently yes.' He said annoyed and half walked; half stormed off.

'Hmph, freakette.' Sally mumbled and laughed quietly at her own joke.


	3. The only one

**The only one**

'Don't tell me you were actually interested in that imbecile.' Sherlock says to Irene as they sit in the taxi back to Baker Street without John; due to the pair's extravagant exit, never mind he would catch up.

She laughed heartily, 'No of course not, who in their right mind would find him attractive.' She smiled at him genuinely. He smiled back saying, 'Then why were you flirting with him?'

'Can't a girl have some fun?' He didn't reply, she added, 'You hardly ever let me have any.' He scowled at her; 'What do you mean?' He sounded confused but he knew exactly what she meant, so did the taxi driver he guessed as he watched the eavesdropping middle aged man chuckle in the mirror. She smirked at him, turning her head to face the window watching the ever bustling Baker Street.

Sherlock payed the driver and they both got out of the taxi. He was just about to retrieve the keys from his pocket when a cheery Mrs. Hudson opened the door for them. 'Irene!' The elderly woman said with delight ushering her inside. Sherlock sighed heavily, was his landlady really going to react like this every time she saw her? Then again Mrs. Hudson did seem quite convinced that Irene was his partner.

The two women chatted happily, Irene liked Mrs. Hudson she assumed that Sherlock's landlady acted as a mother figure to him. He removed his coat and scarf placing them in the cupboard. Just as he began to ascend the stairs he turned around to the sound of Mrs. Hudson saying his name.

'Yes?' He said, she pleasantly replied; 'Well dear I was just wondering how long Irene would be staying with us.' Well this was a difficult question to answer, Sherlock had gathered that the woman's residence would remain at the flat until the crime web was finally defeated. Even though she had not admitted it it was quite obvious that she wasn't only there to aid him in defeating Moran, Irene was there for his protection.

In a way he was pleased she had come to him, but of course he would never think that Irene completely depended on him; she was a strong woman who could take care of herself, nevertheless Sherlock was determined to protect her. Irene would maybe only be expected to stay till that happened, but at the back of his mind he had a feeling that she may have other intentions even if she was not aware of them herself.

'As long as it takes.' He replied running speedily up the stairs before she could ask him another question, she could not find out about the real reasons for Irene's visit; it would worry her to death.

'As long as what takes?' Mrs. Hudson said quizzically to Irene. Oh Sherlock had thrown her into this one.

An hour later John Watson returned to the flat which already looked like a bomb site. 'Couldn't have just waited for me could you.' The doctor caught sight of the living area of 221B, sheets of paper were scattered over the floor accompanied by hundreds of post-stick notes which decorated the wall and mirror above the fireplace.

'Good god!' He said as he entered the room putting the shopping bags in the kitchen. Sat in the middle of the room was Sherlock and Irene, both were on the floor in deep thought, the detective in his usual thinking position; staring at the evidence in front of them and Irene sat cross-legged next to him with the laptop.

Neither of them had spoken to him for a couple of minutes, 'Found anything?' He said. Sherlock replied instantly, 'Mr. Fisher said he didn't think the bite was from a bug he was right if his more detailed description of the men was accurate enough then it was clear that neither of them had been abroad recently to receive a bite which would make them itch that regularly.'

Irene interrupted, 'Therefore the creature must have been imported and handled nothing that lives in England could cause that, a snake, would be our suspected culprit.' John opened his mouth as to begin to speak, 'Got it!' Irene said excitedly, Sherlock turned to her immediately.

'Oxybelis aeneus, otherwise known as the Mexican vine snake.' She began confidently. 'We know of Moriarty's previous South American connections, some of them must have been rebuilt allowing easy trade.' He said.

Irene continued standing up, 'It's extremely thin yet very long.' Sherlock smiled; rising to her height, 'So it could easily fit through the air vent bars without disturbing them.' She ended triumphantly 'And it's venom is not poisonous to humans but can cause severe itching for a short period of time.'

'But how could a snake break through glass, it's fangs wouldn't be strong enough and how could it steal a diamond?!' John said in complete confusion. 'We're working on that.' She said disappointingly sitting down again.

Within moments the noise of Sherlock's mobile rang throughout the flat disturbing the peaceful silence. He retrieved it from his pocket, then answered it. 'Sherlock Holmes.'

Sally replied down the phone her voice much kinder than hours before, 'Its Lewis, he's missing, we think he's been kidnapped.' 'Me and John will be there as soon as possible.' And with that he hung up.

'What about me?' Irene asked irritated. Sherlock replied coldly 'It won't be safe for you. Stay here.' The two men walked down the stairs leaving the woman alone in the flat.

She stood up once again with a grumpy look on her face, 'Well someone's being protective.' She mumbled to herself and sighed as she watched them get into a taxi through the window. Replacing the curtain she entered the bathroom to pour herself a long, relaxing bath, she had a feeling that they wouldn't be back for a while, she might as well make use of the time instead of sulking.

Nearly four hours later they returned 'Thank God your back, I thought I was going to die of boredom.' Irene said, she was curled up in Sherlock's chair; wearing his blue dressing gown and watching the television. She didn't only wear his clothes to get to him, she enjoyed indulging herself in his musky scent (however silly and sentimental it may be).

'So what happened? Enlighten me.' She spoke as an seemingly exhausted John slumped down opposite her on his armchair. 'They haven't found the body, but we've been informed of his death.' From his pocket he extracted a small piece of paper; with fluid curled writing that read quite simply 'Don't bother searching your witness is dead.'

'Well, quite the opposite style to our Jim's isn't it.' She said after she had read the note. 'Evidently, I at least expected a riddle of some kind but apparently the technique never remained in the business.'

'So what are we going to do?' Irene asked. 'Wait.' Said John. 'But what about the dia-.'

'We solved the case, a simple metal contraption was attached to the snake's head with a sharp blade containing a diamond covering strong enough to break through the glass, all that was left for the criminal to do was train the snake to grasp and hold the object in its mouth long enough for it to be retrieved, sadly the snake was not very compatible at first; biting its trainer.'

'H-how?!' She said turning to look at John who just shrugged his shoulders. She smirked at Sherlock, one of the things she loved most about him was his intelligence, his ability to deduce everyone and everything within seconds.

'Hungry then? I'm starving.' Irene said walking into the kitchen. 'Me too.' John yawned stretching his arms above him.

Opening the fridge door was nearly always a mistake when in 221B. Inside she found nothing but a freezer bag filled with three rotting human ears, 'Why three?' She asked, not the usual reaction Sherlock was used to.

'I guess it'll have to be something from the cafe.' Said John. 'Yes, indeed would you mind picking it up John? I'll have a chicken salad.' She said her voice as smooth as silk. 'Um, yes, I'll be back in a minute.' He said; sounding slightly concerned of Irene's possible plans; then swiftly left the living area.

Irene removed herself from the leather armchair, walking over to Sherlock where she stood on her toes to kiss him on the cheek just as she did all them months ago in this very room. 'Well done.' She said. Sherlock looked down at her to find her pupils dilated so much that her eyes were almost completely black.

He stated the obvious, 'Your pupils are dilated.' She smiled at that, they both reminded themselves of past events. 'Would you like to take my pulse?' Said Irene in a low voice her face now dangerously close to his. Instead of replying he delicately took her wrist as he placed two of his fingers on the pulse point and felt the racing beats. They stood frozen for a few moments before Sherlock spoke, 'Elevated.' In response Irene painfully slowly wrapped both her arms around his neck, bringing their faces closer and closer until their lips were just centimetres apart and they stared into each other's eyes with such intensity that the world around them disappeared.

'I'm back, really quick actually we were lucky.' John said loudly as he re entered the building with a collection of carrier bags containing their meals which were retrieved from the cafe below them. Irene reluctantly removed herself from him; tracing her fingertips across his neck until they were completely separated.

A couple of minutes later the group were seated at the kitchen table (with Sherlock's experiments pushed to one side). They ate their dinner mostly in silence whilst the detective and the woman exchanged odd glances. Once again John disturbed them. 'Listen, I need you two to do me a favour.'

'And what's that?' Asked Sherlock. 'Well Mary asked to meet my friends, so... Could you both come on a double date together with me and Mary?' Sherlock almost spat out his drink and Irene chuckled as John queried the pair, 'Except you seem to have missed one crucial detail.' Said Sherlock patronisingly then continued, 'Me and Irene are most defiantly not dating. Why didn't you ask Mike?'

'Because he doesn't have a girlfriend.' John said becoming rather stressful. Sherlock put his hands in front of him in explanation, 'Well neither do I!' Irene laughed at the pair of them quarrelling, 'Well I'm in.' She smirked flirtatiously at Sherlock receiving a cold stare in return.

'Yeah, see.' John gestured to Irene, 'It will only be two hours over a meal.' Sherlock let out an irritated sigh 'Okay if I must.' Irene leaned towards him and for the second time kissed him on the cheek, 'Good boy.' She said condescendingly then picked up their plates and put them near the dishwasher.

As Irene went into Sherlock's bedroom to get changed and ready for bed John smirked at Sherlock, 'It'll hardly be difficult, you act like you're together anyway.' Sherlock scowled 'She may behave that way but I most defiantly do not.'

'Then how would you explain this morning.' John said. Sherlock knew what he meant immediately, the little Anderson encounter earlier, 'Goodnight John.' He said sharply walking to his room.

'Goodnight.' John chuckled, could Sherlock really not see how obvious he was being he thought.

Once Sherlock and Irene were in bed he turned out the lights and closed his eyes, analysing today's events, all these thoughts were cut off when a he felt a sleepy Irene move her head to rest it on his chest and lay her arm across his waist. 'Irene what are you-.'

'Shh.' She whispered nuzzling closer to him and fell into a relaxed, dreamless sleep.


	4. I got mine

**I got mine**

Sherlock hardly slept that night. His mind was constantly buzzing with thoughts, trapped in his mind palace until the early hours of the morning. After the minor case had been solved all there was left to do was wait until Moran struck again, Sherlock wasn't the most patient of all people, he needed something to occupy him; a distraction perhaps.

He was sure Irene could think of numerous things to end his boredom, but the man was not interested in sex, he was interested in her. A physical attraction was common; but a mental connection, that was rare.

He was attracted to Irene, he could hardly admit it to himself let alone the woman, he had never been in a situation like this before nor had he ever considered himself anything but asexual. But Irene had changed all that to everyone's surprise.

His subconscious mind had also shocked and confused him to no end, his dream last night was ridiculously unrealistic, although dreams represented his thoughts, concerns and desires. He hardly registered the experience as unpleasant, quite the opposite.

Irene awoke first to find an unconscious Sherlock with his arms firmly secured around her in a possessive manner, his head rested on her shoulder. She squirmed slightly as she regained consciousness causing him to fasten his grip even tighter.

She turned her head slightly to read his expression, he was smiling in his sleep, no wonder dreaming about her once again she thought . She struggled to exit his arms, not that she wanted to; but she was very hungry even after last night's meal.

When she did eventually escape the bed she quietly creeped out the room closing the door silently behind her. It was strange, being in almost a domestic nature with Sherlock Holmes, well it was hardly what normal people would consider ordinary; chasing down a criminal mastermind and all, but the atmosphere was relaxed yet the inevitable sexual tension between them was still there; and stronger than ever.

She closed the bedroom door silently, turning around to find the flat drenched in bright summer sunlight which poured through the uncovered windows causing her to squint as she made her way into the kitchen to find anything decent to snack on, (she wasn't going to look in the fridge again; that was for sure.).

Once Irene's eyes adjusted to the sunlight she searched through a couple of cupboards eventually coming across a loaf of bread and paired it with strawberry jam. She popped the bread into the toaster; and another, she might as well make something for Sherlock, he wasn't on a case, one of the few circumstances where he would eat.

Whilst she waited for their breakfast to cook Irene walked barefoot across the flat to reach Sherlock's desk. She ran her fingers delicately over the violin eventually making their way down to a small drawer.

She looked behind her before returning her gaze to her hand hovering over the handle. 'It wouldn't hurt to take a quick look', She thought to herself and slid it open as quietly and as carefully as she could.

Inside the small drawer was stuffed full of interesting bits and bobs, an small origami flower, various notes and small sheets of paper; one reading 'Beware of the Hound'. And then there was one item that caught her eye, underneath all of this, hidden beneath the clutter was a familiar phone. Her camera phone. She held it in her hand and turned it on, for one reason only. The screen came up 'I AM - LOCKED', she typed in the password; 'I AM SHER LOCKED'.

The phone unlocked, it was empty, yet he had kept it. This phone was of no use for information anymore, it had been wiped. The only reason he kept it? Sentiment she thought immediately, she felt her own pulse raise slightly at the shock and delight.

She smiled before replacing the phone in it's rightful place, in Sherlock Holmes's drawer of souvenirs. The toast leaped out of the toaster, making her jump with surprise.

When Irene re-entered the bedroom she had every intention of waking him up, but to her surprise he was already awake sitting on the centre of the bed. 'Bored.' He muttered.

'Pardon?' She said sprawling herself delicately over the covers near him. 'I said I'm bored.' He spoke up, turning his head round to face her. She looked adoringly at him, for a moment lost in her own world where the only thing that mattered was him; and her.

She sat up to face him; joining his gaze out the window, 'Well I think that I can help you with that.' She smirked.

'Miss Adler. If you have not noticed in the past two days the last thing on my mind is...' He said, she interrupted during his pause, 'Is what Mr. Holmes?'

'Is sex.' He said sharply laying down and turning his back to face her like a stroppy teenager. Irene giggled and lay facing his back. 'And what made you come to the conclusion that that is what I wanted?' She smiled, he only grunted in reply.

'I know what we can do. Tell me a detective story.' Said Irene. Sherlock turned around to this, he hardly ever told anyone of his cases as stories, no one seemed to be that interested, John was usually with him throughout the case and he wouldn't dare burden Mrs Hudson with tales of murders and criminals.

And so that was how their morning went on. He told her stories of the speckled blonde, the geek interpreter and so many more that she couldn't count. She laughed at his witty and sarcastic comments, and when he mentioned Moriarty she went silent. Jim was a dangerous man, one that she had not thought about for a long time, it only brought back bad memories, though without Jim; she would have never met Sherlock Holmes, that was one thing she would thank him for.

Hours later they exited the room together, still in nightwear, to find a rather suspicious and inquisitive John peeking at them from behind his newspaper. 'Good morning Dr. Watson.' Irene said.

'It's one in the afternoon!' John attempted to appear calm but failed miserably, he had yet to conclude his thoughts on what on earth they were up to for all those hours, some of his theories he would rather not think about. 'Yes, I am well aware of that.' Sherlock said emotionlessly. John rolled his eyes returning to his newspaper.

'Well Lestrade called, he just needed you to identify the body from the last case at the morgue.' He said from behind the paper. Any other time he was required to carry out what he thought to be a mere unnecessary job he would have dismissed his participation, yet his boredom forced him to crave what little action and activities he may part take in.

Nevertheless he sighed and retreated back into the bedroom to get dressed.

Some time later Sherlock was joined by Irene to their trip to the morgue.

Her heels tapped loudly on the floor behind him as they walked together to St. Barts. The dreary interior flashed past them as they sped across the dull hallway until they found themselves in another room.

It was reasonably sized, the walls were covered with shelves which were adorned with bottles and jars of various different colours and chemicals. In the middle of the room was an examining table; holding a body covered with a sheet. No wonder that this was Lewis Fisher, poor soul, coming to the police was the worst mistake he ever could have made, though it did benefit them. They could not afford to underestimate Moran's growing power.

Only seconds later a short woman with mousey brown hair tied up into a ponytail emerged from a cupboard. 'Oh, hello Sherlock!' The woman gave him a shy smile, until she spotted Irene that was. 'Molly.' He merely acknowledged her presence, '...and...umm.' She continued.

Irene stepped forward to shake Molly's hand, was it a mistake to let these two meet? Sherlock thought. 'Irene, Irene Adler.' She said coolly with her mask of confidence placed firmly. In reality Irene was feeling rather protective; possibly even just a hint of jealously, very unlike herself indeed.

Sherlock impatiently wandered over to where the body lay, she watched as Molly followed him with her eyes, almost adoringly. 'She's my-.' Sherlock began in means of explanation, 'girlfriend.' Irene finished his sentence (however most defiantly not correctly.) and smiled maybe a little too sweetly at Molly as she moved herself closer to him; their shoulders almost brushing.

Sherlock however seemed to take this quite well, under the circumstances, he continued with his work hardly giving Irene a single glimpse, yet he wanted to per usual. He didn't bother checking Molly either, he could easily deduce her thoughts without seeing her upset facial expression that was attempted to be hid by a smile and flushed skin.

Without wanting to wait any longer Sherlock removed the sheet himself to identify the body, 'Yep, that's him.' He said tediously and slowly circled the table, even though he was certain.

'Oh...well it's nice to meet you Irene. Sherlock didn't tell me he had a girlfriend.' Molly said; ignoring Sherlock's analysis, trying to disguise her distinct annoyance. 'Don't try to hide your emotions Molly, they're blatantly obvious.' Said Sherlock coldly, he couldn't stand to see them mentally fighting over him; it was rather distracting and embarrassing. Though he did feel sympathetic towards Molly, although she was a nice girl and someone he could trust, she could not be compared to Irene, who he had such a different relationship with, one that he could not begin to explain.

The poor woman looked terribly vulnerable and shy whilst surrounded by the consulting detective and the woman. Irene was certain though, Sherlock was her's; even if he would not admit it they both new that she was the only person he had ever had these feelings for, surprisingly Irene likewise she had never been in love, but she would hardly go as far enough as to call what they had at the moment love.

Molly opened her mouth slightly as if to start speaking but no noise came out, she walked off in a huff with bright red cheeks. Sherlock turned to Irene with an expression that read 'Have I done something wrong?'

'Just. A bit not good.' She replied quietly then took his arm as they exited.


	5. Yearnin'

**Yearnin'**

Sherlock, John and Mary stood in the hallway of 221B Baker Street awaiting Irene's arrival, always one to be fashionably late John thought as he made small talk with his date, she was dressed in a strapless black dress which John thought she looked stunning in; her long blonde hair in large ringlets cascaded around her shoulders.

Just a moment later Irene descended the stairway. All three heads turned immediately, she was wearing a blood red dress which hugged her figure perfectly; matched with high heels and a clutch bag of the same colour, she did not apologise for her tardiness. 'Everyone ready?' She smiled as she watched Sherlock gape rather briefly at her appearance; looking her up and down. 'How do I look?' 'F-fine.' Sherlock stuttered before returning to his emotionless attitude.

Irene truly was the only person in the whole world who could ever make him stutter. But he couldn't help himself, he may even go as far as to say she looked beautiful, though with most other things that he thought of her he concluded that he would never speak of his true feelings and opinions of her, it was a sign of sentiment, and sentiment was weakness.

Her red painted, full lips placed a peck of a kiss to his cheek as she intertwined their fingers together. Oh she was enjoying this so much, playing Sherlock's partner for the night was just too fun, not only did she have a valid excuse to flirt with him but he wouldn't be able to stop her.

'...taxi's just outside.' John said fighting the awkwardness that Mary clearly did not recognise, but then again she did think this a perfectly normal encounter when in reality it was an extremely unlikely situation.

The four of them exited the front door, 'Don't take it too far.' Sherlock half whispered half hissed, 'Oh I'm not making any promises.' She purred seductively into his ear as he led her into the taxi.

John called out the name of the restaurant to the driver, an Italian one by the sounds of it. Irene and Mary engaged in a conversation, seemingly boring and uninteresting, Mary mentioned her job she worked as a nanny for a wealthy family, she was a nice enough woman, a bit chatty for Sherlock and Irene mind. All was calm and fine until she asked a question which none of them would want to answer, 'What do you work as Irene?'

'Erm...' She said, this was an unusual occasion where she had no idea how to answer a question, 'She's a...' John attempted to help. 'Singer.' Sherlock lied, it was a silly thing to say when he had no idea whether she could sing or not.

She turned to him giving him a look that seemed to say 'Thank you.' Irene in fact was quite a talented singer, dabbling in it during her teenage years along with dance and acting.

The conversations and small talk continued until they reached the restaurant. It was certainly quite pricy, the building had a modern white exterior which had a path of neatly trimmed evergreen bushes on either side of the doorway. They were led inside to find the restaurant rather busy, though it was a Saturday night, 'Oh, this is nice!' Mary said excitedly; smiling to John.

Sherlock huffed, 'Cheer up dear, it won't be that bad.' She said in a tone too low for the other couple to hear, she sounded genuinely comforting towards him, maybe she wasn't going to be too harsh tonight.

Sherlock was seated next to Irene and opposite John, he watched the couple in front of him shamelessly flirting and laughing at each-other's jokes, how tedious being in a relationship must be he thought. Irene tugged at his arm lightly and he sharply turned her head to face her. 'Let's have some fun shall we.' She smirked as his eyebrows knitted together in confusion, 'What do you make of that woman over there, blue dress; red hair.' He spotted her immediately and took only five seconds to think and deduce.

'Mid thirties married twice though she was always the one to divorce the other, she's on a date with her boss obvious from his clothing, hasn't even bothered changing from work still in the same suit, doesn't make much effort but she doesn't seem to mind, given the more expensive nature of this establishment she recommended it but is most defiantly not paying a single penny-.'

She cut him off, 'She's a gold digger, that's a pricy dress yet it has the remains of several stains that she has attempted to erase, but she still wears it because she can't afford a new one, none of her husbands ever trusted her, when she divorced she received no money, she gets bored of the same person and is prepared to move on to the next whenever as long as they are richer.' She sat back in her chair and held a gaze with Sherlock for longer than was socially acceptable.

When they turned back around they found a annoyed John and an astonished Mary staring straight at them. 'You're a detective aren't you?' Mary said recalling from what John had mentioned of Sherlock in the past. 'A consulting detective. The only one in the world.' Irene said looking into Sherlock's icy blue eyes admirably.

John cleared his throat ending the silence that hung around them, a waiter came to the table, 'Ready to order?' He asked.

The meal went on as monotonously as Sherlock had predicted, why were people so boring and ordinary; even Irene was joining in with their conversations, the only entertainment he got was from deducing the people in the restaurant, sometimes impressing Irene with his deductions.

Later on the four of them were eating their desserts, Sherlock's ice cream remained untouched as he stared at a group of people intently. 'Don't look now, but I think we have ourselves some suspects.'

'What do you mean?' After a few seconds she took a peek from the corner of the eye, at the table sat a group of 5 men all dressed in expensive suits, chatting, laughing and drinking. 'Italians.' She said noticing they were speaking the language. 'Well we are in an Italian restaurant, it's not anything out of the ordinary.' He said.

'Then why did you point them out to me?' She asked curiously. 'Because I heard a name. Moran.'

She looked up to him alarmed, Moran was planning something that was for sure. 'Whats wrong you two?' A tipsy John said. Sherlock scowled at him, he despised drunk people, what a stupid waste of time, he couldn't even begin to understand why anyone would want to make their nervous system even slower than usual.

'Excuse me.' Irene spoke sitting up from her chair, she was obviously going to investigate. She knew a fair amount of Italian and would be able to pick out any suspicious words or phrases. She walked pass the table going to the ladies bathrooms, luckily it was in the direction of the table, dropping her bag a table away she slowly bent down to pick it up, listening carefully to their conversation.

In the heavily accented voices she made out a word, one that she was dreading, "Sherlock." She swallowed hard and took a deep breath as she entered the toilets. She reapplied her blood red lipstick and perfected her already immaculate hair style. It was inevitable that Moran would be after Sherlock sooner or later but this had come as rather a shock.

But she knew he would be fine. After all he was the one who saved her, faked his own death and overcome numerous criminals in his time as a detective. Moran would just be another case to solve. She convinced herself this.

Returning to the table Sherlock turned to her, 'Anything?' He asked. 'They said your name.' Irene said looking down into your hands, he could tell that she was worried for him. He took her hand comforting her.

'We need to leave.' Sherlock whispered. Just in time their waiter placed the bill on the table, Sherlock and John hurried to pay it. 'Sherlock what's going on?' John said in a serious tone. 'Moran's men.' He said in means of explanation.

'They look like...the Mafia or something!' John exclaimed, as Sherlock had a sudden moment of realisation, of course they were the Mafia, the elderly criminal organisation that was growing with new, young members. How did they not see this before, it was Sebastian's doing, the man was fond of helping other organisations to extort future favour as was Moriarty. What was most worrying was the fact that that favour could be to destroy Sherlock Holmes.

'Irene, Mary I need to take a picture of them, don't mind covering for me do you?' He asked a bit too forcefully. Without asking questions they stood in the direction of the men and smiled as if posing for a normal photograph.

'Sherlock we need to leave, now.' Irene said, she was right if they were recognised they had no hope in defeating them. She looked up at him with worried eyes, he put a hand on her shoulder and led them outside.

Irene was shivering in her thin dress even though it was moderately warm; for a British summer night anyway, 'Here.' Sherlock said handing her his jacket. She smiled and took it obediently, he really could be a gentleman when he wanted to be.

They haled a taxi and rushed inside, Sherlock sitting close to Irene, the last thing he wanted her to be was worried for him. Personally he was a lot more concerned about protecting her.

'221B Baker Street.' John instructed the driver; and they drove off into the night.


	6. Dead and gone

**Dead and gone**

Back in Baker Street the sky was pitch black and dotted with stars that glowed dimly with the London pollution among the dull backdrop of seemingly monotonous surroundings.

The group, accompanied by Mrs. Hudson sat; huddled around the fireplace of the flat whilst Sherlock was pacing the room mumbling to himself. John could hardly believe their little night out had ended in quite a bang, escaping from quite serious immediate danger.

Irene had no idea why she was feeling so shaken, it wasn't as if she hadn't been through dangerous situations before, she took risks for the fun of it; usually with positive consequences. However this was different, it wasn't only her in danger; but someone she cared about. Sherlock.

Love truly was a great disadvantage. Wait what was she thinking? Love?! Of course she was not in love with Sherlock Holmes, she couldn't be; she wouldn't allow herself to be. Flirting and seduction was fine, that was her forte but she couldn't fall in love with a man so cold and asexual. After all he would never love her back. Out of all the men and women who adored her, why couldn't he?

Sherlock sneaked a few looks at Irene, she was holding her mug of tea tightly in her grasp, if she held it any tighter it might reach the extent where she could break it. He had the sudden desire to comfort her. What a sentimental thought, and in front of everyone else as well; he would not let that happen, showing them his weaker side would be a mistake, even if he could trust them the last thing he needed was to appear feeble in a situation like this.

There was no other plan he could devise that didn't involve one extremely necessary move, 'Pack your bags, we're going to Italy.' He said out of the blue his tone not even changing in the slightest as if this was a normal sentence.

The rest of the room seemed to erupt in confusion. 'Why on earth would you be doing that dear?' asked the oblivious Mrs Hudson, Sherlock was always running off somewhere without a moments notice. Adventurous and exciting as it did seem she did worry about him.

'Sherlock. We can't just go to Italy because we have a single clue, we're not even sure if it means anything.' John exclaimed, he had always wanted to go to Italy, but not on a case.

'Not you. Irene, if we destroyed the rest of the web we can destroy Moran. And I need you in London John.' Sherlock exclaimed. Irene was torn, she knew what Sherlock was saying was true; they were a good team and he knew it, the difference was this would be a much more dangerous encounter, she didn't want herself or her detective dead at the hands of Sebastian Moran.

With impeccable timing familiar footsteps began to ascend the flight of stairs. 'Irene Adler, I was never informed of your...survival.' The voice came from just outside the door as a figure emerged from the dark hallway. 'Sentiment has gotten the better of you dear brother.' Mycroft said looking as smug as ever. Sherlock gave him a hard stare in reply, 'I believe you're mistaken Mycroft.' He said sternly.

Irene stood up to stand next to Sherlock, she wasn't afraid of the elder Holmes; mostly because Sherlock didn't seem to show any fear towards him.

Mycroft looked the pair up and down, they did make quite the couple, the detective and the dominatrix even though he did have such a hatred towards the woman he wouldn't want to put her in any more danger than she was already in, his brother did seem to care about her a lot more than he let on.

'And I believe that I am not.' He smirked. 'I've been informed of your little plan and I do not approve of it.' He continued and then increased his volume, 'Moran is dangerous, we don't want you in the same situation as with Moriarty, you almost died.'

'But he didn't.' She said quietly but confidently, Sherlock looked down at her, she was supporting him. Mycroft abruptly changed the subject 'Yes he didn't, and neither did you. How?' he queried; directing the question to both Sherlock and Irene. He did have his suspicions.

They shared a gaze before returning their look to Mycroft. A devious smirk appeared on Sherlock's face as he slipped his arm around Irene's waist for the second time. 'A girl could get used to this.' she thought as he guided her out of the room she followed obediently. Leaving the comment hanging in the air; 'I'll leave you to your deductions.'

The room was left in awe and shock as they exited, the most addled being Mrs. Hudson who had absolutely no idea what was going on, leading her to questioning John frequently in the next few hours.

Sherlock grabbed his coat before they left; he opened the front door still leading Irene outside, though he knew she would follow. 'So what was that all about?' she asked, 'Just my stupid brother, we're going to Italy tonight, I hope you like Tuscany.' he said whilst placing his coat around her shoulders in what seemed to be a romantic and caring manner.

'Tonight, are you sure this is a good idea Sherlock.' she said masking her worried tone. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder to bring Irene close to him in the cold night; she leaned into his warmth contently. 'I'm sure, we need to get rid of Moriarty once and for all.'

'And what will we do after that?' she asked with no idea what he might say. He waited a while before replying, 'I don't know.'

She had no idea where she would go after they defeated Moran, she didn't want a normal life. Ideally she would stay with Sherlock but that could never work, he wouldn't want her with him. It was not as if he would need her after this. In a way she thought that maybe he merely thought of her as a tool, he was a sociopath after all. Ridding that ghastly thought from her mind she sighed as they walked the streets of London; attempting to find a taxi.

Sherlock scanned the streets for any sign of a taxi this time of night. He'd normally despise any couple he saw in the same position as him and Irene; without context anyway. Running off to Italy together, it did sound rather silly but it would be an experience. He assumed that when all this was over he would continue his normal way of life, case after case. But what would happen if John left? John was not like himself, he could picture him with a wife and family; where would he fit in with that life? His thoughts led him into as series of possible scenarios, he wasn't going to dwell on the unknowns of the future, right now was what was important.

He stumbled as Irene stopped all of a sudden in the middle of the pavement, removing herself from his grasp. Her musings from earlier had led to endless chains of speculation and distrust, 'Sherlock, you can't just drag me along to help you fight your battles.' she said staying completely static, not daring to stare into those eyes of his; they stared right through you, not just to deduce; she could almost feel them penetrating right into her soul, breaking her mask of protection to reveal the fragile truth.

Sherlock expressed his confusion of her abrupt fickleness, 'Drag you along, Irene you're the one who begun all of this; I hardly want to run off to some foreign country myself. But if that's what it takes to ensure my... and your safety then that's just what I will do.' A glimmer of hope appeared in his eyes, this was the last thing he needed.

Irene turned around; he back facing him and began to walk back the way they came, she still held her tight grip to his coat wrapping it around her. 'As much as you want this it's not safe Sherlock, we'll be dead in hours if he discovers us. I won't let that happen to you.'

He analysed her choice of words, picking out the sentimental values that showed him the truth she was speaking. He speedily followed her, coming to a sharp halt as he grabbed her arm. 'Don't go.' He said in an almost desperate tone, he was.

At his voice she twisted around. 'You know I'll follow you.' He continued looking down and straight into her eyes. She leaned in feeling the heat he was radiating once again, she knew he needed her.

'I promised you that I would never let them kill either of us.' Sherlock said. She remembered the moment, only two days ago; he was right and she believed him.

'Do you trust me?' He asked her as a final plea. It felt like seconds became hours before she replied, hardly whispering 'Yes.' They shared a rare smile of content together.

'Taxi.' He said loudly, hailing the cab and breaking the moment. Never mind she thought, there should be plenty more of those in Italy. Irene smirked to herself as she sat in the vehicle.


	7. Midnight in her eyes

_I'd just like to say thank you so much to everyone who has been reading this story and those who have taken time to review it, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I love writing it! Also I've decided to set part of this story in Italy as I have been lucky enough to recently visit Tuscany myself and have been studying Italian for four years._

**Midnight in her eyes**

Montecatini Terme, Italy

Irene wasn't sure whether it was late night or early morning when they finally reached the hotel, all she knew was that she needed sleep. After the taxi ride to Heathrow the hours seemed to all merge into one rushed memory. Both of them had taken the hour they had before boarding to acquire clothing and other essentials, they could go shopping in Italy of course but the lack of both suitcases and hand luggage would seem suspicious; attracting unwanted attention (especially that possibly of Mycroft.).

She couldn't sleep on the flight, never had been able to on planes, so spent most of the flight daydreaming, living in her own perfect world whilst Sherlock remained silent and in his mind palace. She wondered if he ever had fantasies, maybe even about her, she smirked smugly at the possibility. He appeared to be such a unbreakable, emotionless man, but she knew that somewhere under all his braininess that he had a heart. And that it was feasibly her's for the taking.

Now they set to a quick stride on the pavement beside each other, the streets in this area were narrow and extremely desolate in the night, the only signs of inhabitance being the light from the lobby of the hotel and the dotted starlike glow of the few houses which adorned the mountainous backdrops which were almost indistinguishable in the darkness.

'Finally we're here.' Irene half groaned letting Sherlock follow her into the main entrance, she felt exhausted. Irene still wasn't entirely happy with the prospect of becoming now so close to Moran and the constant danger that followed him with every step he took.

The hotel was clean and modern, also fairly small given the location in the town, but it would defiantly satisfy all their needs, out of all the touristic hotels in the area it would take Mycroft quite a while to identify their residence even with his power and connections Sherlock was not unfamiliar to aliases and a tad of bribery (only when necessary.).

Once they had booked the room they were led across the hallway and into the elevator for the top floor. Sherlock wasn't tired at all, quite the opposite actually. He was ashamed to admit that he was rather excited about their little trip, not only in the hope of defeating Moran, but also in the assurance that he had a companion.

Irene was a much different companion to John, although the man was his best friend and they worked very well as a team; Irene had powers of manipulation which he could simply not compare with. They suited different tasks, and in this situation he was convinced that she was perfect for the job.

The only problem with working with Irene was her infatuation with himself and the complications that raised. Sometimes the sheer mystery of herself would distract him to no end. A position which he had repeatedly frequented during his hiatus.

They reached the room and opened the door quickly. The interior was plain but fashionable, mostly featuring a shade of chocolate brown. There was a large bed in the centre of the room facing a window which was surrounded by two matching chairs which looked out of the now closed blinds. A simple en suite was speedily occupied by Irene who took a shower, wanting to go to sleep as soon as possible.

Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed; unpacking what little possessions they had managed to take with them into the wardrobe. He didn't know how long they would be staying here and assumed that they would need another shopping trip sometime in the future.

After they had both showered and dressed Irene turned off the lights and slipped into bed possibly too close than what was acceptable for the platonic nature of their relationship, craving his warmth. 'This morning I came across a possession of mine.' She said catching his attention as he turned on his side to face her.

'And what's that Miss Adler.' He said sounding slightly worried. He only knew of one item of hers he had kept, and he deduced that she would assume was of purely sentimental value, which was defiantly not, that's what he thought anyway. 'My camera phone. I see you kept the password.' She paused before continuing, 'I am Sherlocked.' The words made his heart flutter and he felt as if there were butterflies in his stomach. 'Yes.'

Irene saw his discomfort and laughed softly, 'What I want to know Mr. Holmes is why on earth you would want to keep an empty phone. Sentiment perhaps?' She stated confidently, she was loving this. 'Don't flatter yourself... Goodnight Irene.'

She smirked as she moved her body over him to place the most gentle and fleet of kisses on his perfectly sculpted lips. Her lips were delightfully soft and he stored the sweet taste and beautiful texture of them in his mind palace to never be forgotten. He didn't move his lips the slightest, frozen from shock.

She lay back on her side of the bed before replying 'Goodnight, darling.' She had clearly kissed him purely for a reaction, and that was something Sherlock was not willing to give her, he couldn't let her get the better of him. He didn't need her in a romantic or sexual way (well that's what he convinced himself.) he was asexual and that was the way he liked it. Although he could not deny the peculiar urge he had to now kiss her back, he fought it with all the self control he had and slept instead.

Hours later settled in a calm, comfortable sleep Sherlock was rudely awoken. His eyes squinted at the morning light which seeped through the gap in the curtains but he only realised what; or rather who was his culprit.

Irene tossed and turned in the bed, whimpering loudly her face drenched in tears. Sherlock didn't know what to do, he wasn't used to physically comforting anyone. For moments he just stared at the woman, every second mounting his worry.

He held Irene by her shoulders, she strained under his grasp subconsciously attempting to break free. 'Irene. Irene.' Sherlock said repeatedly, his tone rising in volume with every word. He cursed his instant reaction to comfort her, convincing himself that he was only trying to silence her cries for his benefit.

She gasped as her eyes opened wide. Before he knew it arms were wrapped tightly around him; with a tension that she was unwilling to break. 'Sherlock...' she muffled into the crook of his neck helplessly.

He had never seen her so weak and vulnerable before, not even that night when he unlocked her phone, then she still had dignity in her actions, but now she seemed desperate for aid. He felt her tears dampen his bare chest as he moved her to lay down resting most if her weight on him, never letting his arms leave her body as he did so.

She relaxed leaning her head on his chest, trying to regain control of her breathing as he carefully run his hand up and down her arm. Irene was holding onto him for dear life whilst she adjusted back to reality from her nightmare, still shaking with fear.

'What's wrong?' Sherlock asked quietly when she was calmer. She looked up at him, her hair was tangled and spread messily over his collarbone. The irises of her eyes were hidden by dilated pupils that had the darkness of a midnight that never left.

'You, t-they killed you.' she cried softly once again. She felt so naked, she had never let anyone see her like this, not since she was a child. The dominance and authority she was used to disappeared. In this moment the only desire she had was to be under Sherlock's protection.

He brought her closer and kissed her forehead, not romantically; in a sibling like manner. Part of him told him to push her away, whereas the other kept his arms around her, refusing to let go until she recovered.

Sherlock wasn't familiar with the concept of cuddling or snuggling and neither was Irene. She fell asleep quite quickly, laying against her now protective Sherlock. Admiring his toned torso, running her still shaking fingers in random patterns over his muscles relaxing herself. He watched her, fighting a grin and almost shivering from her feather like touches.

They didn't need words in the time they held each other before they fell asleep one again. Irene felt a flood of relief come over her, he was safe, she was safe and they didn't need anyone else. She trusted him, she knew that they would return to London successful and most importantly, alive.


	8. Girl is on my mind

**Girl is on my mind**

They woke up tangled together, legs intertwined and wrapped in an embrace. Sherlock aroused from his sleep blinking at the brightness of the sunlight, sitting up against the headboard; removing his arms from around Irene's body, he watched her curl closer to the covers, feeling his heat leave her. He was scared for her and her future, he didn't know where she would go all this, in a way he felt that he wanted to care for her. He dismissed the idea immediately.

She cared for him, so much, it was obvious for all to see. Now that their original game was over he gathered that she felt that there was no point in hiding it. He couldn't even begin to understand how much the nightmare had affected her, it frightened her out of her wits. It seemed that the thing she was most afraid of was losing him, a weakness that could possibly leave her in great danger. Her vulnerability didn't last for long of course, switching back to her mask as soon as was possible. She didn't want to be a open book.

One thing that annoyed him the most was how she dared to kiss him, even if it was brief; the idea of intimacy made him squirm and especially with the reaction she had caused, even if she didn't notice his confusion and deductions throughout the night.

She turned to face him as she awoke, a small smile plastered on her face, 'Good morning Sherlock.' she sat up moving closer to him, she used his first name, she was clearly a lot more comfortable with him than previously. He was uncomfortable, especially as he planned to ask the question he had been contemplating since last night. 'Why, did you kiss me?'

She smirked; making eye contact, 'Because I couldn't help myself.' she replied playfully winking at him. Sherlock grimaced, 'It must never happen again.' he said overly seriously. 'Says the man who held me in his arms all night.' she propped herself up on her elbow, her tone teasing.

A sudden feeling of anger washed through him as he spontaneously pinned her down, leaning over her; proving his dominance. She let out a sigh of surprise as she hit the bed, she admired his cheekbones and pale porcelain skin as he talked huskily to her, almost whispering into her ear. 'As much as you would like to think it Miss Adler, I do not have...feelings for you.' he said through gritted teeth.

She let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding, 'And yet you've just pinned me down on your bed. Sherlock, your actions are not matching your words.' she whispered in his ear then moving to kiss him on the cheek, he remained silent, 'Mr. Holmes. Lets have dinner.' she continued lustfully, leaning in to kiss him on the lips with the hope that maybe this time he would accept, her eyes fluttered close.

He rolled off of the bed and took large strides into the bathroom, firmly locking the door behind him. Leaving Irene alone in bed. He put his head in his hands taking a deep breath before turning on the tap to splash his face with water. She was right, he couldn't explain his actions and he lied to her. He was certain that he had feelings for her, slightly romantic ones, he admired her, but nothing more, he convinced himself, nothing...sexual.

He had said once that sex didn't alarm him, but that was simply not true. He was a virgin, so obviously hadn't had the experience before but even the idea of it felt so foreign to him. Irene was comfortable in those kinds of situations, clearly.

This was ridiculous, she was getting into his mind, before confronting her again he took a deep breath attempting to unwind from these tangled thoughts of his. He needed to ignore any...urges, their game was becoming dangerous; for both parties alike.

When he re entered he found her searching through the wardrobe to find something to wear, but she was only wearing minimal amounts of underwear (purposely.) causing him to almost stumble when he saw her. He blushed, not wanting to look her in the eye.

'Something the matter Mr. Holmes?' she asked him watching his expression turn to one or rare shyness. 'Not at all.' He huffed. Her efforts to catch his attention were not at all aiding his pledge to keep clear of any emotional situations with the woman involved.

Sherlock cleared his throat before making his statement, 'Irene, I highly recommend that you cease your attempts at a relationship with me.' The words felt like a stab in the heart. She held back any signs of sadness, 'Who says I want a relationship with you?' She asked, craving a satisfying reply or maybe none at all, she didn't want what he was saying to be true or even him to have that opinion of their partnership. She received his deductions instead.

'From the first day we met you've been flirting with me, I have knowledge and proof of what I incite in you; a quickened pulse and dilated pupils. When we destroyed the crime web you tended to leave your emotions on your sleeve, letting them get the better of you. Your attempts at seducing me continued until the very end when we went our separate ways.' He moved closer to her, seeming to dominate with his towering height. She seemed so small and innocent, as her emotions changed significantly in those few seconds from her trademark boldness to a normally hidden timidness.

'You turn up in my flat, revive your endeavours once again, try to make me jealous several times, then wake up crying from a nightmare in which I died. You are clearly in love with me.' He watched her shocked and bemused expression, finishing his point, 'I think that that is enough to be going on don't you?'

She came closer; staring at him with dagger eyes. How dare he insinuate something like that, she didn't love him! In fact in that moment she loathed him and every word that fell from his mouth. All those things were meaningless, if she really did love him he would be hers by now, which was most defiantly not the case. Sherlock began to slightly regret what he had just said, but it didn't show. His expression remained as solid as stone, his eyes daring to keep contact with hers.

Unexpectedly he felt Irene's hand meet his cheek, hard. Since their first meeting she had never been violent towards him, any little squabbles they had would be carried out with words not with brute force. Sherlock bit his lip fighting back the pain, Irene turned around and immediately finished off getting dressed.

It was only when she grabbed her room key did the jarred Sherlock make any attempt to stop her in a very unlike himself way; trying to hug her in an apologetical fashion, not knowing what else he should do. Though he didn't see what he had done wrong; he felt guilty now watching her reaction, but he saw no wrong in the truth.

'Irene, don't, please.' he said desperately. Still furious and embarrassed she wrenched his arms from around her, leaving the room uncomfortably silent for the detective.

She stormed down the stairway too hastily for Sherlock to follow. Did he just think that she would come running back to him after he implied something like that? Either that or he was completely clueless, she suspected the latter. She slowed her pace as she walked through the last of the hallways to reach the continental breakfast buffet which was bustling with a mass of people. She sat down at a table for two alone before getting her own breakfast.

Sherlock had really thrown himself into this one, he needed her partnership and he didn't want to hurt her in anyway but his ways had gotten the better of him, he needed to make it up to her somehow.

He steepled his fingers as he thought, he slouched on one of the twin armchairs allowing himself to think those sentimental thoughts that he hadn't permitted to himself in a long time. It was a few minutes later when staring into the distance of the Italian summer scenery did an idea struck him, so demonstrative that it shocked him.

He immediately stood up to go to the bathroom, taking a shower before dressing himself in a navy blue shirt and a dark grey suit. He hastily collected his phone and wallet then exited their room, locking the door behind him.

Downstairs he was careful to avoid the hotel's dining room in order to keep out of Irene's way, he didn't want to make her suspicious of what he was doing, it would only end badly. Sherlock managed to slip out of the entrance without being noticed, squinting at the bright sunlight which he was greeted with. Walking down the streets knowing just where to go.

**Viareggio.**


	9. The lengths

**The lengths**

Even though Irene was not at all happy with Sherlock at the moment; she decided to aid him with some research of the current criminal activity of the area. After all there was no point holding a grudge against him when lives (possibly theirs.) may be at stake. Squabbling was just illogical especially when it threatened to distract them from their actual aim.

She went back to their room in order to acquire her bag and jacket, expecting Sherlock to make another failing apology but was a bit surprised when he wasn't even in the room. 'Sherlock?' she called sounding a bit worried, she decided she should't though, he's probably just out researching like her.

Grabbing her bag and slipping on her burgundy leather jacket matching her dress and shoes. She went to the piazza, she would do what she could without attracting too much attention, reading the newspaper, talking to locals, maybe even a visit to the police station if it didn't prove too risky. They didn't want to be caught before the game had not even begun.

The piazza was fairly busy, the majority of the people were elderly; which meant that they would not be rushing around and would be more happy to help her. She smiled as she approached a woman who was sitting alone on a bench, 'Buongiorno.'

It was a couple of hours later and Irene's little technique had worked, the locals had informed her that it was the same as always, gun crime and gangs in the late hours. She took a quick visit to the station where she used some slight manipulation, telling them that she had seen someone wielding a gun, they told her that they probably had a licence which was totally legal, she still asked for assurance which led to the prospect of Mafia involvement, just what they were looking for.

Now she was walking back to the hotel scanning through the newspaper she had just purchased. Not much of interest, she put it back into her bag, it could wait till later.

She wasn't sure if she wanted Sherlock back in the hotel or not. If he was there it meant a confrontation which she dreaded, especially if he remained as clueless of his mistakes as he was previously. But if he wasn't there then that would only prolong the encounter. She was still hurt.

Opening the door, she was pleasantly surprised at the sight which greeted her. She dropped her bag on the bed before making her way towards the small table next to the window. On the table there was a large bunch of red roses with a little note attached to them. A wide smile spread across her face as she detached the note from the flowers to read it.

On the front it simply said 'I'm sorry.' Irene could hardly believe that he had gone to this level of effort to make her forgive him, but he wasn't going to win her back with just a bunch of roses. She opened the card hoping that there would be more writing inside, there was.

It read 'Lets have dinner, meet me at ristorante della spiaggia.-SH' In a way she was disappointed that he meant real food, not her version of dinner, but nevertheless she was overjoyed with his invitation.

She inhaled the scent of the roses he had given her; preserving this very rare moment of content, she doubted that he could even be this sweet and thoughtful but it appeared that she was wrong. She looked up the name of the restaurant on her phone, it was in Viareggio, a town on the coast. She called a taxi, got dressed up and waited in the hotel lobby excitedly.

In the restaurant Sherlock sat at a table for two watching the sun as it started it's descent from the sky. He convinced himself that she would defiantly come, she wouldn't be able to resist this gesture, or would she. He was becoming slightly impatient now, he hadn't specified a time of course, he just assumed that she would come straight away.

He looked out into the distance where the blue of the sky was beginning to turn dark. He saw a figure entering the beachside restaurant, being guided to his table by a waiter. She turned heads whilst she walked, she was wearing a long white dress that flowed around her as she moved, the colour causing her to stand out from the rest of the darkened room. Her hair flowed freely around her shoulders, it was styled into large curls. Sherlock thought she looked beautiful.

'Hello Sherlock.' she said in her seductive tone ignoring the young waiter pouring their wine into her glass. 'Irene.' he said in a relieved voice. He hoped that she had forgiven him, after all he had gone to a lot of trouble to apologise, he wouldn't want it to go all to waste. 'For a minute then I wasn't expecting you to arrive.'

Irene smirked, 'I don't hold grudges Mr. Holmes. It won't do us any good.' She took a sip of her drink. 'But I'm intrigued, why?' she continued, watching his unusually soft eyes turn to a state of confusion. 'Why what?' he said slowly and carefully; assessing anything he could about her. But as always he saw only the obvious, her alluring elegance and lack of flaws. Her perfection distracting him from deducing everything about her.

Or maybe it wasn't Irene who prevented him from doing that, maybe it was himself. He loved a mystery and not knowing every detail about her made Irene just that.

'Why are you apologising, and why in this way?' she brought his mind back to reality giving him the challenge of answering her question. 'Because what I said was wrong, and I felt guilty about it, this was a fitting solution.' he almost seemed like he was forcing the words out, hardly believing he was capable of saying them.

She raised an eyebrow as they were served their identical meals, he had already chosen for her. She replied before eating her colourful pasta dish 'I didn't think you a romantic kind.' she smiled watching him become uncomfortable under her gaze. Not wanting to displease her once again he didn't make any witty comments that might cause upset.

'Neither did I.' he said stiffly, though his words were true, he had never done this for anyone. She laughed quietly, 'So we're finally having dinner, Mr. Holmes?' she smiled widely. 'Yes it appears so. Not quite the type you had in mind I presume?'

'No matter. We'll just save that for later.' she let the words slip off her tongue in a purr, delighted with his alarmed expression.

Their meal went on pleasantly, Irene informed Sherlock of the small amount of information she had acquired, but in fact that little information helped quite a bit, admittedly Sherlock himself should have been more so focussing on Moran but he had been distracted by all this. Never mind, it had only gained him his partner back.

After eating an appetising dessert Sherlock led Irene out of the restaurant, he could barely keep his eyes off of her, she was stunning in every sense of the word. He noticed how the light sea breeze coming from the ocean tousled strands of her dark hair in all directions, contrasting with the pure white of her dress.

'Shall we walk?' he asked unexpectedly; offering his arm rather immediately. She grinned, curious about his peculiar behaviour, taking his arm darlingly as they began their descent down the few stone steps that led to the beach.

She took her shoes off, sinking her bare feet into the sand, relishing the soft feeling of it. It was a lovely beach, it seemed to stretch for miles, the sand was completely clean; like fresh snow on a winter's morning and the scene was completed with the backdrop of distant mountains hidden by a thin mist. It was certainly a sight to remember, especially aided with the last circular warm glow of the sun, surrounded by a darkening blue background of the soon to be night sky.

Sherlock also removed his footwear, rolling up his trousers at the ankles to avoid ruining them with the sand or seawater. He relinked their arms as he approached her, but they both slipped until their hands were held together. Irene broke the unusually comfortable silence of the calm waves crashing down to the shore.

'I'll miss this.' she said dreamily, 'Italy? Yes I've taken quite a liking to it myself.' Sherlock said glancing between Irene's eyes shining in the dimming light and their hands tightly linked together. They strolled along the very edge of the coast, their feet meeting water with every few steps. The entire beach was empty apart from them and a collection of seabirds in the far distance.

'Not just Italy, the game.' Irene continued, he looked at her interested. 'Sherlock, do you know where I was in between the ceasing of your hiatus and when I came to see you?' he had been keeping tabs on her, for her own safety; he didn't want her getting into trouble again. 'Australia.'

'Yes, and do you know what kind of life I led?' her voice now becoming sadder with every sentence. 'Suburban I suspect, nothing out of the ordinary. A life away from whom you really are.'

'Yes.' she frowned; leaning her head on Sherlock's shoulder. 'You know, it doesn't have to be like this.' he eventually said, looking around at the seemingly deserted town where shops were mostly closed and passers by became rare. He then looked behind them at the trail of twin footprints which they left behind.

'What do you mean?' she asked. 'Well, you're a dead woman walking, you've got the world to explore if you wish it to be so. When you're safe that is.' she chuckled lowly. 'That sounds awfully lonely Sherlock. Gosh, sometimes I wish you were dead again.' she laughed when he raised an eyebrow, 'Not actually dead, just like all that time ago.'

'It was only a few months.' Sherlock exclaimed. She turned to a more serious tone, stopping both of them in their tracks, taking both of his hands with her small delicate ones. 'But it felt like forever, I missed you. And I'll miss you again, I don't want to be alone again.'

He found this almost heartbreaking, the woman who almost brought a nation to it's knees requiring company. He brought her close to him in a hug, 'Irene, as long as I'm alive you'll never be alone. You have my word.'

She smiled into his chest, savouring the moment. 'We'll see.' Irene almost whispered.

They admired the very last of the sun sinking into the sea, the last of its yellowy colour disappearing into the greying blue of the sea in the dark of the late evening sky.

_Thanks for reading and reviewing! A few Italian words were in there so just to let you know a piazza is basically a town square and ristorante della spiaggia translates as restaurant of the beach (I'm not very creative with restaurant names.)._

_I've been to the Viareggio beach myself, it was coming back from the annual festival that me and my friends decided to take a walk on the beach where there was the most beautiful sunset that I have ever seen, so that pretty much inspired this chapter, I hope you enjoyed it._


	10. Things ain't like they used to be

**Things ain't like they used to be**

Slipping on a pair of sunglasses purchased from the Florence market Sherlock completed his disguise as him and the woman found a relaxed pace along the river. It was a normal bustling day in the city, with all the usual energy. Except for a dangerous man walking the streets at that very minute.

Posing as a couple was an advantage for the pair at the time. Irene Adler may be alive to Sherlock and his companions but nevertheless to the rest of the world she was dead, and to many they wished that to remain so. If anyone was searching for Sherlock Holmes they would expect him alone, or at the most with his well known friend John Watson. But Sherlock Holmes with a woman? That was something that nobody would anticipate.

Last night he had decided was a mistake. For her to forgive him was the only aim, but he had taken it too far, allowing himself to indulge in those rare feelings of intimacy and his despised sentiment. He had however surprised himself in how simple these things were beginning to seem almost habitual to him, he knew that things weren't like they used to be. And he knew that it was becoming futile to attempt in a reversal of everything that had happened in just those few days of their reuniting.

A feeling of sonder alerted him to the thoughts of Irene. Did she want rid of this tangled, emotional wreak of a relationship they had seems to acquire or was she actually hoping that it strengthened between them?

'Red sky in the morning, Shepard's warning.' stated Irene watching the last of the warm shades fade away leaving the illuminated blue shade in its place. A few small clouds spread over the sky across the colour of summer. 'Yes. Indeed.' he replied turning his head upwards to watch the last of the scene himself.

Mycroft had thought this little trip of their's dangerous, and it was so; it could not be denied. Though his dear brother had failed to account that both him and Irene had faced jeopardous situations before, for instance Moriarty was probably the worst threat both had ever had; and they had survived that didn't they?

Well they may have had to fake their deaths but they were alive weren't they? And as Mycroft might say thriving under the circumstances. Moran was merely a student, he could not possible harbour the same power that his teacher had, but they could not underestimate him, he was a stranger and as he recalled from the previous diamond case, the man was not familiar to the same sort of riddles and games, preferring a much more straight forward approach which in some ways made him predictable but in others; only made him harder to beat.

Sherlock looked across the river only to spot a face he recognised. Taking the crumpled photograph from his pocket; he compared the two people before pointing the man out to Irene who agreed.

'Giovanni Romano. Moran's top spy.' Sherlock said whilst examining the picture once again, just to make sure. 'So, we need to find out why exactly he's sent his best man to Florence?'

'Exactly. We'll just have to follow him until we find what he is doing in the city.' Sherlock continued, matching the man's pace from across the river. Irene speeded up, struggling slightly behind him. 'Sherlock, dear, slow down a bit.' he did, his view remaining closely on Romano, 'We'll only look more suspicious.' Irene said.

'We don't look suspicious.' He exclaimed, his eyebrows creasing together in confusion. The last thing they wanted was to be caught red handed, and Irene seemed to know how to avoid that. He obliged; offering his arm to her with a frustrated sigh. He wouldn't admit it but he could almost feel them growing closer to each other, reliant on the other.

This was something that Sherlock had not allowed himself to do nearly ever. He felt the realisation sink in that Irene had became as familiar to him as that of John or his own brother. The difference however was their type of relationship, it was platonic (at the moment.) but clearly had the possibility to escalate not only to something sexual but some sort of committed affair which only himself and Irene could possess.

But what if Irene didn't want that? He had previously deduced her feelings for him of course but it would be comprehendible if that was to change. He highly doubted that she would ever want a devoted or faithful relationship, he suspected she would prefer a fling or short-lived romance. But who was he to fall for the understandable, stereotypical, heartless dominatrix, or ex-dominatrix should he say?

He had not asked her if she was still involved in her original profession. The thought now coming to light; it worried him to no end. Despite all which he had thought before about refusing himself anything with Irene, he immediately felt angered at the idea of her still catering to the whims of the pathetic, when she was supposed to be his. But was she really?

Sherlock would never think of Irene as something to own and be possessed, he had simply assumed that while she was attempting to seduce him she was in no relationships whatsoever which in a way, made her, his. Even if it appeared that he didn't want her.

Whatever happiness that deduction had created; soon faded. He hoped that Irene didn't think that he was using her, he would never do that, simply her intelligence meant too much to him, not to mention the protectiveness he felt over Irene. He refused to let her come to any harm. The moment in which Sherlock realised that this was so much more than a passing crush was when he decided that he would risk his life for her.

He had actually done such a thing, all those months ago in Karachi where he had saved her from impending death, which in a way was his fault, and he felt terribly guilty for it.

He found her alive, but scarred, not only literally from abuse and labour work; but emotionally too. She had denied it numerous times but he had effectively broken her heart when he left her that dreaded night at Mycroft's manor house. Sherlock may have appeared to be completely heartless at that moment, however he felt a strong responsibility to keep her from harm.

She was a strong woman who could defend herself, he wouldn't deny that, but hiding from Moriarty was a dangerous game, one which sadly she could not win by herself. So that brought him back to her. But what had brought her back to him those few days ago.

Boredom? Protection? Or simply being able to help the man who saved her life?

He suspected the latter of course yet the other two would certainly be reasons to come back to London, especially being Irene Adler.

Irene's intelligence could easily be compared to his own, meaning that a suburban lifestyle just like her's in Australia would bore her to no end. He needed action and excitement as did herself. And as for protection, he would always be there for her, and she knew that. Danger was exhilarating at times but the last thing she needed was to be caught again, plus with Mycroft knowing of her survival she could easily go back to her former identity if Sherlock wished it to be so when the crime web was gone and both of them were safe...well moderately.

'So, we're posing as a couple now are we?' Sherlock said in an amused tone. Irene laughed lightly 'A very good deduction Mr. Holmes.' she teased. He rolled his eyes and brought them to a halt as they saw Romano take a sharp turn into a alleyway.

'Irene, go and I'll meet you back at the hotel.' Sherlock said seriously. 'Are you sure Sherlock?' she asked, quite concerned, she didn't want him putting on a brave face and doing this alone, he may be a clever man but he did have a bad habit of taking some unnecessary risks, this being one of them.

She sighed loudly before speaking, 'Just be careful Sherlock.' he nodded before moving to walk across the bridge, he felt a small hand turn him around to say goodbye. 'Arrivederci.' she said after kissing him on the cheek, keeping their alias.

'Ciao.' he replied whilst quickening his pace to catch up with the spy. She smiled before turning around herself, she trusted him of course, all she needed was him to come back alive.

She looked both ways before crossing the road and making her way to find the statue of Michaelangelo's David. She might as well explore Italy while she still could.


	11. So he won't break

**So he won't break**

After a few hours of exploring the city, visiting the Uffizi gallery and the Florence market Irene found herself in a small gelateria in the corner of a street, the restaurant was anything but crowded, the room consisting of only her and a young couple, clearly on their honeymoon.

After ordering a pistachio ice cream she sat herself down on a table just outside of the shop; allowing herself to gaze across the river, just allowing herself a rare moment of reflection.

She respected Sherlock's actions of wanting to target Romano singlehandedly but nevertheless she felt as if she would enjoy some of the action herself and couldn't help to think that he was attempting to avoid putting her in any situations of possible danger. Rather sentimental of him indeed.

He must know that she could protect herself perfectly well, it wasn't as if she hadn't had a slice of action in her time; working alongside the consultant criminal not to mention the dangerous aspects of her 'dominatrix days'.

Perhaps it was just an instinct, he had saved her before; maybe he was just steering clear of that situation again. After all it wasn't the most convenient of things for them to be doing when there were far more pressing matters at hand.

Just as she was about to take another taste of her ice cream; she froze when her phone rung. At first she assumed that it would be Sherlock, either in trouble or hopefully successful in his mission, however she was quite surprised when John's name appeared on the screen, she pressed the answer button.

'Hello Dr. Watson, may I ask why you are calling.' Irene said condescendingly, letting the words slip off her tongue like silk. 'Well, seeing as Sherlock won't answer his phone or his email when he has disappeared off to god knows where in Italy.' His voice escalated as he became more and more irritated, Irene brought her phone slightly further from her ear, wincing at the volume.

'I thought that I might call you instead.' He finished, sounding calmer. 'Well, I'm sorry he hasn't been answering his calls. What would you like to know?' Irene smirked to herself, poor John; he must be worried sick about Sherlock and his goings on. Not to mention the fact that he was travelling with an ex-dominatrix who had previously managed to land them in more trouble than they needed.

'Well...how is he?' John asked. 'So so, I guess he is missing London, but we can't miss the chance to finish Moriarty.' She said in a softer voice, she had noticed that he had been slightly homesick, it didn't show prominently however. She knew that it wasn't just the chance to finish the crime web that was keeping him in Italy, it was her; why else would he plead for her to come with him. Surely he had the power to do this on his own, he was a great man and her company may have helped significantly but it was clearly more than that.

'Listen, Irene I-I know that you and Sherlock have been, well, what I mean is...' Said John, unable to contemplate what he was attempting to say. 'Spit it out John.' She said unpatiently. Irene listened to him take a deep breath before speaking; 'That Sherlock and you have been rather clearly expressing sentiments for each other. I know he would deny it but its rather obvious, Mary agrees.'

'But I thought that you told Mary that me and Sherlock were a couple anyway?' She quickly swerved the conversation to avoid any questions. There was a reasonably long silence before he answered, '...me and Mary have, grown closer, in fact she is staying at Baker Street at the moment. Are you trying to change the topic?'

Irene interrupted half way through his last sentence, 'Oh, someone's lucky, would Sherlock be intruding on his return?', she practically sensed John roll his eyes; 'Actually Mary was evicted from her apartment,so she is staying here until she can find somewhere to move. Speaking of returning, will you be joining Sherlock?'

Irene sighed, looking across the stunning river once again, 'I don't know John. He doesn't want me there.'

'I, don't know what he wants. Just don't hurt him Irene, not again.'

She didn't know what to think, it was true, she had hurt him in the past; when she betrayed him by working with Moriarty. However after that she could never bear repeating those mistakes, she was lucky that she had been forgiven by Sherlock, without his consideration she wouldn't be alive today, despite her assistance to him she still felt that she owed him for his heroic deeds.

It wasn't only in the past, only days ago did he agree to protect her from Moran, not explicitly; and she wasn't completely reliant on him, she wasn't a damsel in distress for god's sake; she was merely back in London for securing her own safety. And maybe for a little fun, Irene wouldn't deny it she had missed Sherlock while she was staying in Sydney in her "new life". She missed his lightning fast deductions, his sharp cheekbones, the way he would lose himself in his "mind palace" allowing her to observe him (She wondered whether he had ever noticed.) and most of all their conversations, there was no one else in the world quite like him. Irreplaceable in every sense of the word.

'Don't worry, I'll take care of him.' she smiled to herself before continuing 'Should I tell him that you called?'

'No; don't bother. Bye Irene.' John said hastily, 'Goodbye .' Irene sighed once again after putting her phone back into her bag.

A couple of minutes later she walked the streets of Firenze, on her way back to Montecatini Terme, she hoped that Sherlock would be there when she returned, of course she had trust in his ability to take down this man; she just couldn't help but worry.

A familiar face caught her eye, walking towards her. It was Romano, but this made no sense, he should have been taken care of by now; jailed perhaps.

But then it hit her, she had seen this man before. At the table of Italians back in the London restaurant laughing among friends; rarely glancing to their table, a passenger seated behind them on the flight to Pisa completely silent and reading the whole journey and the waiter at the ristorante, they were too distracted to notice, too entangled in emotions and insolvent mysteries to notice the blatantly obvious.

She sped up the speed of her walking; turning her face away to avoid being detected, if she hadn't already been noticed. Irene took her phone out of her pocket and unlocked it to text Sherlock.

Just saw Romano, is everything alright? Are you back at the hotel?-IA

Yes, turns out I was wrong he wasn't our man. I'll see you soon.-SH

Okay-IA

She was still confused and weary, so naturally rushed back to the hotel, she wouldn't be satisfied until she was reunited with the detective, she didn't feel as if she could trust a text. It didn't seem like him.

She opened the hotel room's door, practically bursting into the room. Irene looked around, there was no sign of him. Before she allowed herself to panic she walked around the room, every hidden corner, the en suite but he was no where to be seen.

Not knowing what to do next Irene sat on the edge of their bed dropping her head into her hands. Maybe she shouldn't be worrying, maybe he was just running late; she convinced herself. Until she spotted a note on the desk that was.

With hopefulness she picked up the small piece of paper, re-reading it a couple of times, it didn't seem to sink in.

If you want your dear detective back, you'd better come and find him before I change my mind.-SM


End file.
